


to a good home

by lynne_monstr



Category: Leverage
Genre: Background Case, Fluff, Kittens, Multi, the cat attack army
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: “Are you teaching our cat your Art of War stuff?” Parker asked as they left the vet’s office.Eliot shrugged. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just didn’t want her to blow our cover.”A pitiful meow sounded from inside the cat carrier in his hands.“Alright, maybe I am a little,” he conceded.The team adopts a kitten.





	to a good home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [page_runner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/page_runner/gifts).



> Happy holidays to the lovely page_runner! I was delighted when I saw you were my recipient this year. Especially when I saw your prompt list and realized there was only one thing I could possibly write. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

An itch prickled at the back of Eliot’s neck, the kind that meant trouble coming his way. A sniper’s crosshairs. An ambush. Prying eyes where they didn’t belong.

For the barest second, the world narrowed to a razor’s edge as his mind raced. An amateur might've whirled towards the shadows, fists up and ready to fight, but Eliot knew better than to give the game away. Instead, he placed a hand at Hardison’s back and shot a knowing glance at Parker as he steered their trajectory slightly off center.

If anyone was stupid enough to take on Eliot in his home territory, he was gonna show them what a poor life decision that was.

“Eliot, how many?” Parker’s whisper blended into the sounds of their soft footsteps.

“Not sure,” he replied, grunting in frustration.

The street outside the Bridgeport Brew Pub was silent, save for the ambient noise of garbage trucks and traffic, and the irregular hiss of a flickering street light as they walked past. The few pedestrians on the sidewalk were different from the ones around the back corner where they parked on the street, and not a one was moving in the kind of pattern that meant they were trading off surveillance duty.

Still, something was off.

Parker tensed on the balls of her feet, no doubt mentally turning over their most recent jobs and narrowing down the list of targets capable of revenge. He didn’t need to look to know her hand was tucked close to her body, ready to draw her taser. Or that Hardison’s fingers itched to grab one of his phones and hack the entire city of Portland for whatever surveillance feeds he could bend to his will.

Neither of them drew their respective weapons, trusting in Eliot to do what he did best. That trust was a warmth simmering in his belly, the embers of a steady hearth fire he never asked for or expected. One that he’d gladly spend the rest of his life trying to live up to.

All his thoughts and strategic plans came to a grinding halt when a shadow detached itself from beneath the flickering lamp post.

Eliot blinked, and even Parker gave a quiet, “Oh.”

The remaining stillness shattered when Hardison let out a shot of laughter, crouching down to offer his hand to the tiny grey kitten blocking their path to the Brew Pub’s front porch.

“Eliot, you got a twin,” he said, once the kitten was close enough to give a cautious sniff of his fingers.

“Eliot’s way bigger than the cat. And his hair’s longer, too,” Parker protested, even as she stepped closer to get a better view.

Eliot kept on his guard. The size of the animal could account for the faint noises he had heard, but that was no reason to get sloppy.

“It _is_ an Eliot twin!” Parker’s voice brought him out of his reverie.

“Yeah man, take a look,” Hardison added. “You two got matching black eyes.”

After a final visual sweep, Eliot could admit that the only danger here was that Parker and Hardison might want to bring the stray thing home. Well, he figured, it wouldn’t be the first stray they brought in from the cold. Not like Eliot had much room to argue on that front.

Rolling his eyes, he shook the tenseness out of his muscles and made his way over.

And sure enough, in the light of Hardison’s cell phone, he could see that the cat had a slightly darker patch of dirt smudged into the fur around its right eye, in the exact same place where Eliot had taken a particularly vicious hit with a tennis racket three days ago.

He shook his head and didn’t bother to fight it when Hardison scooped up the cat and brought it inside with them. For such a small thing, it sure could make a racket, purring like a tiny sports car in Hardison’s arms.

“But what do we do with it?” Parker whispered as they settled into their places around the briefing room table. It was late, but there were a few lingering threads to wrap up from their last con before Hardison gave them the digital all-clear. Eliot’s burgeoning fame as an up-and-coming tennis player, for one.

Looks like they just found themselves one more.

“It’s a her,” Eliot said. “And we can’t keep it.” The words tugged at something in his chest, but they were the facts. Their kind of life had no room for a pet. It wouldn’t be fair.

On the table, the kitten stalked in a wide arc away from them, ears flat and tail swishing tightly back and forth as she circled. She was wary, Eliot realized, scared of them and this new, unknown situation. Eliot felt a tug of sympathy and then mentally kicked himself because he was relating to a damn cat.

Their last job had been particularly rough, between the grifting, the fighting, and the part where he had to take a beating to convince some second-rate security guard that tennis players weren’t black belt brawlers. He hadn’t slept much, and it was clearly going to his head, if he was starting to think like a mangy stray kitten.

He knew it was a lost cause when he saw Parker looking at the kitten like it was her new favorite set of lockpicks. “We can’t get rid of Eliot’s twin.”

As if in agreement, the kitten made one last circle before sitting down right at her elbow. Which happened to be the middle of Hardison’s keyboard.

Eliot sighed, and went to get the leftover salmon from his latest attempt at a winter menu.

 

 

In honor of their newest team member, Parker found a private vet clinic that was deliberately misdiagnosing animals in order to collect heftier insurance payouts. Apparently, her cat-loving friend Peggy had a friend from some cat forum who had a friend who lived in Portland who—

Whatever. The point was that a bunch of cat ladies weren’t gonna leap straight into the arms of danger. They needed a little leverage.

Hardison was just starting the briefing, filling the monitors with pictures of a smiling, rosy cheeked pair who looked like they could be someone’s grandparents. Except they were putting animals through unnecessary, painful medical procedures.

With a mouse click, half the display switched over to pictures of cats and dogs in cages, staring forlornly at the camera. Eliot cracked his knuckles, suppressing the urge to jump to his feet. The sooner they got into that place and started cracking heads, the better.

The briefing was interrupted by a piercing howl as Ellie—their new kitten’s name as decided by a two thirds majority vote—launched herself off the table directly at the picture of the clinic owners.

Hardison perked up like a proud parent. “Ah hell, she’s a fighter, too. She really is an Eliot twin.”

Parker nodded approvingly as the kitten made her way back up to the table in a series of smaller jumps.

Eliot grumbled under his breath but he couldn’t fault Ellie’s technique. It was a good, strong jump with good aim. But a cat that small didn’t have a hope of clearing that kind of distance without starting from a higher vantage point.

Padding across the tabletop, the kitten sat back down beside the keyboard and began licking her paws.

“That’s right, girl. We sit next to the keyboard, not on the keyboard.” Hardison pumped his hand in the air and then extended it out for a fist bump.

The kitten ignored him in favor of cleaning herself.

Eliot laughed. Maybe he’d see about stacking up some boxes for her to practice with.

Two days later, all the preliminary work for the con was underway. Eliot and Parker showed up to their vet appointment as anxious pet parents worried about their precious new kitten. Ellie was already proving her worth as a grifter, even if Eliot had to hold her back from clawing at the staff.

“Not yet,” he mumbled under his breath, petting her soft fur in long, calming strokes. “You don’t attack until you know it’s a fight you can win. Wait for it.”

She settled in his arms.

When the examination was done, he and Parker had insisted on speaking personally to one of the owners of the clinic right there in the exam room, ostensibly to be reassured that their little Ellie was in good hands. As they spoke, Hardison was in the guy’s office downloading all their digital files and making copies of the paper ones.

The next phase would have Hardison posing as an investor from a much larger clinic, proposing a lucrative partnership. Once it was accepted, the trap would snap shut and it would be another victory for the good guys. Or rather, the bad guys who broke the law to do good things.

“Are you teaching our cat your Art of War stuff?” Parker asked as they left the vet’s office.

Eliot shrugged. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just didn’t want her to blow our cover.”

A pitiful meow sounded from inside the cat carrier in his hands.

“Alright, maybe I am a little,” he conceded.

 

 

Eliot might’ve acquired a new cat and new con in the same week, but there was still a restaurant to run. A restaurant whose kitchen was short on white cheddar for their winter soup and grilled cheese special.

The last time he sent Hardison into the basement, he ended up with swiss and a rant about how all white cheese looked the same. It wasn’t a mistake Eliot intended to repeat so, wiping his hands off on his apron, he trekked down to the cold storage fridge.

And nearly jumped out of his damn skin when Parker dropped from the ceiling, twisting at the last moment to land in a crouch right smack in the middle of the cold storage room. A tiny grey blur followed her down, mimicking her movements to land with a soft plop at her feet.

Two pairs of mischievous eyes looked up at him.

Parker stood, and Ellie scampered up her leg to perch on her shoulder. “We’re practicing our jumps,” she said.

“Course you are.”

Parker tossed him a block of sharp white cheddar on her way out the door. Eliot didn’t bother to ask how she knew what he’d come here for.

 

 

Pointing a finger at the nearest security camera, Eliot outlined all the reasons this latest plan was all kinds of wrong. There were some lines that weren’t meant to be crossed, and this was one of them.

No reply came over the comms from Hardison, but Eliot knew he was watching. He was always watching, and Eliot would never admit that that fact had gone from downright creepy to something he took comfort in. Didn’t change the fact that this was one fight he was determined not to lose. He was already sharing his damn bed with the only two people he wanted in it; there wasn't room for any more.

“It just ain’t gonna happen,” Eliot repeated, for what must’ve been at least the fifth time. Ducking into an open door, he hid inside the empty room until the sound of footsteps rounded the corner and faded away. Silently, he counted the seconds in his head, waiting to see if anyone else would follow. “The cat ain’t sleeping in our bed.”

Hardison only hummed something noncommittal under his breath. Probably because he knew he wasn’t winning this one.

Satisfied that the coast was clear, Eliot continued his way down the back hallways of the Pet Friends Veterinary Clinic. His lab coat itched and was a little too tight across the shoulders but at least he was almost done here.

When he made his way back to the van, he did it with a sense of accomplishment, both professionally and personally.

Yet somehow, when he woke up the next day it was with an arm slung around Hardison’s waist and the tickle of softness along the bare skin of his forearm. He wrinkled his nose. Parker’s hair was all kinds of gorgeous, just like she was. But this wasn’t the familiar smoothness he was used to.

Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, Parker and her hair were both on the other side of the pillow from Hardison.

Ellie was curled on Hardison’s chest, her head resting on Eliot’s forearm.

Eliot sighed, swallowing a, _Dammit Hardison_. Not that he could prove anything—Hardison was too good to leave evidence—but that didn’t mean he didn’t know. Instead he settled for a rough, “Just this once,” and went back to sleep.

 

 

There wasn’t much to do while Hardison collected data and set up shell companies for Phase Two. Eliot was taking advantage of the lull to indulge in a little baking stress relief. Parker’s cat lady friend from Boston was in town, and Eliot was pleasantly surprised to learn that in addition to being a caterer, Peggy was trained as a professional chef.

It didn’t take long from them to discover that they disagreed on practically everything food related, from the best way to make scrambled eggs to whether a cookie should be thick and chewy or thin and crispy.

Stress-relief baking quickly turned into competition baking.

Presently, they were engaged in a battle as heated as any of the Cutthroat Kitchen episodes they’d spent the afternoon watching together. Eliot had started the day a little annoyed at having to babysit Parker’s friend while she was out casing a potential site for the upcoming con, but by the end of the first episode they’d exchanged more than one recipe, and their phone numbers. By the time Parker and Hardison had rejoined them, they were already elbow deep in their bake-off.

“You run a tight ship here, Eliot. Even if you’re completely wrong about Japanese cheesecake.” Peggy had to practically shout over the noise of the stand mixer, but it was nothing compared to her earlier yelling at the reality television contestants. “My boyfriend is an absolute disaster in the kitchen. It’s a relief to cook with someone and not worry about it blowing up.”

Eliot was kneading his dough the old-fashioned way, and almost froze. Then he started up again, laughing at himself. Peggy probably didn’t mean a literal explosion.

“My two ain’t much better,” he said with a laugh. In the background, Parker and Hardison paused their placing of bets (Hardison had his money on the stand mixer, the traitor, but Parker had his back) to look at them.

Eliot raised an eyebrow, silently daring either of them to contradict him. The brownie incident must’ve still been fresh on their minds, because neither tried to defend their honor in the kitchen.

Assured of his victory, however temporary, Eliot continued. “It’s a nice change to have someone in here who knows what they’re doing, even if your scone recipe sounds more like a recipe for hockey pucks.”

The stand mixer turned off with an angry rattle. “Oh, listen up, buster, because—"

“Wait, boyfriend?” Parker interrupted, frowning at Peggy. “I know all your cats by name, but you never thought to tell me about the boyfriend?”

Peggy deflated, the indignant redness in her face giving way to a smile that left no doubt she was thinking about said boyfriend. “I did, remember. The cat guy.”

For a moment Parker said nothing, her gaze unfocused and inward like it was when she rotated plans and contingencies in her head. Finally, she blinked and said, “But they’re _all_ cat guys.”

Eliot wondered if this baking session was going to end in a cat fight. Maybe it was time to consider a strategic retreat.

But Peggy just laughed. “That’s fair. This one’s the really hot cat guy with the muscles. And the hair. I _told_ you, remember?”

“Not that thief, right?” Hardison piped in. “Not that there’s anything wrong with dating thieves,” he added quickly. “You’re not talking about Eliot are you, ‘cause he’s kind of spoken for.”

“Maybe Peggy has an Eliot twin, too,” Parker added. She paused, wrinkling her nose. “Wait, how many Eliot twins are there?”

“Yeah Eliot, you got a brother or something?” Hardison chimed in.

Eliot suddenly missed the days when his glares had any effect on them whatsoever. He settled for rolling his eyes and getting back to his baking.

“Oh!" Parker said, beaming as she turned back to Peggy. “You mean the guy who got locked in the meat freezer with you, and you almost gave him a concussion with a rack of ribs.”

Peggy upended her bowl of dough onto the counter with more force than probably necessary. “I thought he was trying to kidnap me!”

Eliot whipped around so quickly that tiny flecks of flour flew from his hands. “What?”

Before he could get any more of the story (other than how the guy Peggy beat up gave her his number afterwards) Ellie wandered in and Peggy squealed in delight. It turned quickly to a gasp when she saw what Ellie was carrying in her mouth.

The cat padded up to them and dropped the switchblade at Eliot’s feet before rubbing her head up against his ankles and purring.

Eliot picked up the knife, making sure to set it somewhere far away from the cooking area. “Yeah, she does that sometimes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“She knows enough to use the handle and not to touch the blade.” Eliot shrugged while washing his hands. Soon enough he was back to his kneading.

Maybe Peggy would be a good influence on Ellie during her visit. That cat could use some normal in her life.

(Eliot retracted that thought when the baking contest was unfortunately declared a draw on account of Ellie getting into the competition entries. And eating them. If that’s what normal cats did, he’d take the knives.)

 

 

“Hey, Eliot! Man, check this out. I’m about to knock your socks off.”

Eliot’s socks were staying right where they were, but he made his way into Hardison’s work room anyway. He refused to call it ‘the place where the magic happened’ as Hardison had tried to insist on back when they first set up shop. But he would freely admit the room was pretty impressive, seeing as it was where Hardison built and invented the tech they used on the job.

Eliot walked into the room and came to a dead halt.

_What the hell_ , he thought.

“What the hell?”

“What? I gotta pull my weight here. Parker’s teaching Ellie how to rappel. You been teaching her how to pounce from up high. Even Peggy’s been teaching her proper kitchen etiquette. Or well, trying. I ain’t no absentee dad. You all keep doing your thing and I’m gonna teach her how to be safe.”

Eliot just stared. Being safe apparently meant something out of Hardison’s witches and wizards computer games. And how the hell had Hardison even gotten her into that getup without getting his eyes clawed out?

The kitten was wearing armor. Actual, real metal armor, because Hardison never did anything by halves.

She stood in the middle the workspace, amidst the mess of computer parts and wires and who the hell knew what else. And normally any living thing would’ve stood out like a sore, furry thumb amidst all that nerd stuff. Except now, she blended in with all the hardware, covered as she was in shiny, glinting silver.

A long, smooth plate of hammered metal rested on her back, with tiny pieces extending down to protect her legs. On her head was a little lightweight helmet.

She looked ridiculous. But also kind of cool.

A slow smile grew on Eliot’s face as he shook his head. “Really, man? Armor?”

“Just because you consider a distractingly tight Henley sufficient protection from people wanting to put holes in you doesn’t mean our little Ellie has to be just as reckless, you hear?”

As if on cue, the kitten let out a loud meow.

“Alright, alright,” Eliot conceded, “I guess it’s kinda cool. But don’t go getting any ideas about me. I like my Henleys just fine.”

Hardison winked. “You and me both.”

Satisfied that his wardrobe was safe, Eliot reached out a finger to scratch under the cat’s chin where the armor wasn’t in the way. He also made a mental note to wear his favorite red Henley more often.

Ellie’s eyes closed to thin slits as she raised her head to encourage more petting. The rumbling of happy purring filled the room.

 

 

“I can’t believe they said no!” Hardison paced around the briefing room, hands thrown up into the air in disgust. “That partnership deal was perfect. It was literally made for them. I should know, I’m the one who made it.”

Eliot crossed his arms and glared, not for the first time. “I’m telling you, you oversold it. Again.”

“That’s enough.” Parker’s voice cut through their protests. “It doesn’t matter. We need a new plan.”

Hardison was already back at his keyboard, typing furiously and muttering to himself about, “…the FDA, no…EPA, hell no…maybe the CDC?”

“Even if we do make a new plan, they’ve seen all our faces now,” Eliot pointed out.

“Not all of them,” Parker said.

At that moment, the door creaked open and Peggy stuck her head in.

They all turned to look at her.

“What?” she said.

“How do you feel about taking down an abusive veterinary clinic?” Parker asked, her smile every bit as sharp as Eliot’s meticulously maintained kitchen knives.

Peggy stepped fully into the room, the door swinging shut behind her with an angry clap. “They’re hurting animals?”

Eliot had heard Parker’s enthusiastic retelling of Peggy nearly knocking a man’s brains out with a sauté pan. They all had. It was one of her favorite stories, regaled with a wild glint in her eyes after that time with the Irish mob. And it’s not like Eliot ever actually doubted that version of events, but Parker’s cat-happy friend didn’t exactly seem the type for spontaneous violence. At least, not outside of a kitchen.

Looking at her now, Eliot could maybe admit that he was wrong.

Peggy took a seat at the table and the planning continued anew.

 

 

For once, the con went completely to plan. Or at least, this latest version of the con after the first one went to hell. What mattered was they did their job, and there was a little less evil in the world to show for it.

The four of them strode from the clinic together, leaving the sounds and sights of wailing police sirens behind. Rather, the six of them did.

Parker had a cat on each shoulder, a black short haired on one side and a white long-haired on the other. The overall effect was like some kind of angel and demon were watching over her.

Or maybe she was the one keeping _them_ in line. With Parker, anything was possible.

Eliot trailed behind his team and Peggy, watching their backs and occasionally winking at the cats when no one was looking. At one point, the white one leaped from Parker’s shoulder into Eliot’s arms in a ball of flying fur.

He grumbled a bit about shedding but let the cat settle onto his shoulder. And if maybe he whispered some tips into the furball’s ear about how to stand a proper sentry, well, no one needed to know.

After a very satisfying pause to watch the arrest of the former vet-owners, their next stop was to drop Peggy off at her hotel.

The con had conveniently wrapped up in time for her to catch her flight home, if she rushed. And so they rushed. By unspoken agreement, they all accompanied Peggy to her room. Hardison hadn’t yet finished wiping their activities from the internet, and Parker wasn’t willing to take any chances with her friend’s safety.

Peggy had barely unlocked the door when Eliot threw a hand out, stopping her from entering.

There was a man sitting on her bed.

A man who definitely shouldn’t be anywhere near Peggy Milbank. A few years back, Eliot would’ve put money on this being some kind of hit. Either on him or on his team, using Peggy as bait.

Now, though, he wasn’t so sure.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eliot asked, a smile curling around his lips despite the gruff words.

Before he could respond, Peggy ducked under Eliot’s arm and launched herself at the man, who jumped to his feet just in time to catch and spin her around.

“Quinn!” Peggy gave him a kiss on the mouth that he returned. “You said you were working until next Wednesday. What are you doing here?”

“That’s what I wanna know.” Eliot stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed. Beside him, Hardison and Parker both stared in surprise. Even Parker’s two new cats looked confused, shifting on her shoulders like they were debating whether to launch a coordinated aerial attack.

With a final peck on the cheek, Peggy disentangled herself and turned towards the group. She rolled her eyes at their gobsmacked looks. “I’ve only been talking about him all week.

“This is Quinn. My boyfriend.”

  


   


_Epilogue_

If anyone were to ask Eliot whose fault it was that wrapping up a successful job came with the addition of two adopted cats, he’d say straight-up that it was all Parker’s fault. She was the one who walked out of the vet facility with both animals.

Parker, if asked, would laugh until she snorted, and then raise her chin in Hardison’s direction. After all, it was his idea from the start.

Which was true, Hardison would freely admit. He had indeed already collected both cats’ entire medical history even before the clinic owners had been taken away in handcuffs. At least, what was available of it, seeing as the cats were strays that were rounded up for use in the illegal drug experimentation ring they’d busted up on the side.

However, if anyone actually bothered to ask Hardison, what he’d say with a smile and a fond shake of his head, is this.

“Ah, hell no. It was all Eliot. Those scary squinty eyes went all soft and gooey the second he saw those cats that very first day. ‘Course we brought ‘em home for him.”

It might’ve ruined Eliot’s reputation, if asked. But nobody asked.

At least, not until Nate and Sophie came to visit.


End file.
